Reminder of Immortality: Shadow
by SilentStormShadow
Summary: I have a problem. Not exactly an injected adrenaline rush and schizophrenic nightmares, but very similar.
1. Simply Fine

Alright, a new story! I kinda scraped the other story since my writing style changed for the better. This is rewritten in first-person, told by Shadow's perspective. It's a bit easier to do it this way, as I was thinking of doing it third-person, but being to be able to know what Shadow only thinks makes the story a bit more deeper. It's supposed to be very surreal and abstract—that's what I'm going for, to make this story as unique a Shadow fic as possible.

_*BE WARNED: This story's rated M for a reason. May/will contain strong language and highly suggestive/dark themes. You'll see why in later chapters._

**Shadow the Hedgehog is owned by SEGA and Team Sonic.

**I – Simply Fine**

**I have a problem. Not **exactly an injected adrenaline rush and schizophrenic nightmares, but very similar. And now that I think about it, I might as well be this druggie schizophrenic if these such cases are happening to me.

_I have no idea where I hell I am. _

_I look around. I'm in a wheat field, only the yellowed stalks are emitting an unnatural glow. Synthetic, like thin strips of metal waving through the air._

_ I feel someone behind me. Turing around, I hear a gasp. I don't know whether it was from me or the hedgehog I was now staring at, but she covers her mouth with her full hand. I couldn't help but notice the ribbon tied around her wrist as she clasped her mouth shut. She looks to be about eight years old, but with flowing quills streaked with red. One of her eyes was a glowing shade of blue. The other was a shade of crimson._

_ She takes her hand off her mouth, wrapping it behind her with her other hand, and says with a playful smile: "Dizzy yet?" _

Not exactly 'dizzy', but close.

I dug my fingers into my quills, not worrying if I managed to scratch out blood beneath my gloves. My eyes shut tight enough to strain my retinas; I rocked back and forth in an attempt to rid my mind of these arbitrary visions.

At the time, I felt quite pathetic.

Whatever... visions, or uncalled for events I was thrown into—they all seemed so real. So vivid, more than a dream could ever simulate.

It was also very painful, and the after-effects were very inconvenient. For one, every time these 'lapses' occurred, I found that the room which I was in previous to my visions would be completely and utterly destroyed. In this case, I was in my bedroom hoping for at least an hour of sleep.

Book cases I owned were toppled over themselves, my desk flipped over and my only laptop snapped in half and hissing against the wall I was now facing. I was surrounded by crumpled magazines and novels—and now that I think of it, the only things I really had in my room were my computer and an immeasurable amount of books. Half of them I didn't even know I had, why all these books…

Eventually my headache wore off, but I was still feeling as if I had a hangover. I was also a bit pissed at how f'd up my room now was. Figure I'd let Marie handle it.

Marie. Interesting how her name is so similar to _hers_. She came almost daily to clean around the house, order groceries and whatever else chores involved the outside world. Usually, she didn't have to do much, but since these 'lapses' (I guess I'll called them that for now) began, her work was starting to get cut out for her. Its not that I hired her because her name was uncomfortably familiar, but she was a rose-colored hedgehog I could somehow relate to. Maybe not emotionally, but in some ways physically…

And no, I haven't _tried_ anything on her. I don't think I could be up for anything like that in awhile, not since these visions.

I grunted as I got up from my disheveled mess, ashamed that I felt like I did something horrible to get into this. Thankfully my bed was still intact (mind the dark wrinkled sheets) and it was still night out. I looked to my end-table clock—a fine device that a certain curvy bat gave to me years ago—and saw the numbers flash 12:24. Next to the numbers were my pair of golden bracelets, my only accessory which I eventually felt comfortable taking on and off. They allowed me to have somewhat of an infinite amount of energy, but for tonight I wanted to be unconscious (the _healthy_ unconscious) for at least several hours. Grumbling, I threw myself on the mattress and sighed when I stretched out my limbs. I never knew my body could hurt this much.

—

At exactly 11:43, my cell began to vibrate. These piece of shit Iphones—I don't even remember setting any alarm, and even if I did it wouldn't vibrate.

In fact, my phone was such a piece of garbage that I found myself shoot up from bed and throw my phone at the wall. That's the only way I know how to turn it off—just throw it at my wall—and it works. Also, it allows me to release some of my frustration… Maybe it's not so bad after all.

After freshening up and grabbing my bracelets, I realized I felt… fine. At the moment it felt odd to feel that way, but I was, clearly…fine.

Reaching my kitchen, I found that Marie was cooking.

She was calmer than most girls I've met, with a tranquil English voice and glistening ocean eyes with specks of hazel (and you wonder how come I know her eye color so well? I don't even know.) On this shining morning she wore a sleeveless beige top with dark, thin jeans to hug the shape of her legs… And her shoes weren't so shabby themselves.

As I rubbed the front of my neck I must have growled, because Marie sharply turned and greeted me with a soft, but bewildered, smile. "Oh, Mr. Shadow," her delicate voice gasped. "How are you this morning?"

"I feel fine," I simply answered. "And you?"

"Fine, fine," she answered with just as much enthusiasm. "Thank you."

It ended there. She swiftly turned back to her cooking, not minding that I just stood there. Without trying to frighten her (I was afraid if I scared her, her petite body would just shrivel up,) I sat down at the glass table and looked away from what she was doing.

Yes, I was used to her company in my home, but lately our conversations have turned bland. Maybe it was because of these 'lapses' and her having to do more work? I hoped that wasn't the case, because that would just mean she's more pleasant when she has less work.

Just then, she turned back to me with her head leaning to the side and her hands carrying a plate of… It wasn't disgusting, but I didn't know what it was.

"I made strawberry crepes," she declared as she set the plate in front of me. There were long rolls of what looked like light, flattened out cinnamon sticks with a white zigzagging sauce and freshly cut strawberries on top. The scent of the pleasant dish mixed with Marie's lilac perfume.

She pointed towards the sauce and said, "Usually you're supposed to use chocolate, but I know that you don't eat that, so I used vanilla instead." Clasping her hands together she asked, "Is that alright?"

I inhaled the scent of her perfume once more. "No, it's okay," I said, trying to give her a small, warm smile, "But it looks really sweet. You should have some, too."

Marie looked a bit bewildered at my request, and I didn't blame her. Usually I preferred to eat alone and she understood that, but today I felt that I had to break routine. Besides, I didn't think I could consume such a sugary meal myself.

Still, she gave a modest smile and nodded.

So we both crunched on the crepes for a few moments, and she managed to get me into talking about the occasional messes I happened to make. It wasn't something I wanted to talk about, not even to Marie, but she just fit the topic into the conversation that I didn't really notice what she was asking until it was too late.

"I feel like something is wrong, Mr. Shadow," she said to me with obvious concern. "Are you alright?"

This was when her deep, oceanic eyes looked into mine and she set her hand on my arm. I looked at where her delicate hand was placed, but she didn't seem to notice, and nor did I seem to mind. I started to conflict with myself on whether or not to tell her about my 'lapses'.

When I looked back into her eyes, I could see that she was deeply worried. Just the way she looked at me made my spine impulsively shiver. It's been awhile since anyone had genuine care for me, and neither was I used to someone looking after me. Marie was like a mother I never had. A younger, eye-catching mother.

I put my fork down which contained the last bites of my crepe and looked away from her stare once again. "I've been having these… visions, lately," I told her slowly. "They just—" I gave an exasperated sigh and I felt her rub her hand against mine. "These visions just come out of impulse—I don't provoke them, at least I don't think I am, and… I don't know what's causing them. They come at such random times…"

This time I felt her hand squeeze mine. Apparently she was listening, but I didn't look up to see if she took her eyes off me. She quietly asked, "What type of things do you see?"

"Just random scenes," I told her. "Like last night, I had a lapse and I saw this-this little girl, and we were in a field and both of her eyes were different colors… And she asked me—she asked me if I was dizzy." Finally I looked back up to Marie, whose face was frozen in a blank stare. Apparently, that wasn't the answer she was expecting. Still, she held onto my hand as if she'd fall if she didn't.

She looked away from me and then down at the glass table, sucking in her lips as she did so. Then her eyes were caught back in mine again and she quietly asked, "Have you told anyone else about this?" As if I've admitted a scandal to her.

Still, I couldn't pry myself away from her gaze. I was submerged in her pool of storm-blue eyes. I found myself in a trance, my mouth slightly gaped open. Fortunately I caught myself and snapped it shut. Then I softly answered, "Just you."

Time froze, but only for a little bit. We swallowed in each others features, as silent as the rays of sunlight piercing through the kitchen window. The light framed her delicate face, her eyes now sparkling a more turquoise shade of blue. Suddenly I felt myself grow hot, and I had the feeling that it wasn't because my fur was absorbing the sunlight.

Maria was the one to break the bond, since she shyly looked away and had the hint of a smirk on her face. I found myself cock my head to the side as she lifted her hand off mine as she got up, still looking away. She smoothed out her top, cleared her throat, and mumbled, "I would suggest you see a neurologist," before leaving me with two plates of half-finished crepe.

I didn't bother to ask where she was going, although I did hear footsteps on the stairs. Well, at least she was still here. I looked down to the glass table where she was previously looking, and I saw myself flinch a crooked smile. Immediately I began to frown, as I saw that my smile didn't suit me at all. Then I saw that my frown didn't suit me either, so I decided to keep my face neutral. So this was the face Marie had to see every morning…

Even though I hated to smile, I couldn't help but look away from my reflection but still keep the soft grin, knowing that my relationship with Marie has gone to a different level.

This really was turning out to be a fine day.

—

But not for long, dear Shadow… Tee-hee-hee, Mwah-ha-ha—giggle-giggle. Yes, the first part did sound like a hangover and the second part a bit sappy, but I'm quite satisfied. After all, it won't be like that for long… I plan on introducing a lot of my favorite characters to Shadow, most of them—in fact all of them—being male, since I hate how weird all the female Sonic characters are. Except in the comic—some of the comic girls are alright… eh… Anyway, favorite this story or whatever so you can see the latest installment in this wonderful, deep, dark, angsty story… may not be like that for now, but just wait… wait—that's the key word… wait…


	2. Realizing Something

Yeah, going right away on de next chapter! Introducing a new hedgehog to the mix, alright! (And you will NEVER guess who it is… hint-hint, he's from the comics, which are actually a lot more amusing than the games—you should check them out via Youtube…) Hopefully there will be much more drama to accompany our 3-foot ebony hedgehog, especially when you find out where he's going next… No, not to a gay strip club. You pervs…

_*BE WARNED: This story's rated M for a reason. May/will contain strong language and highly suggestive/dark themes. You'll see why in later chapters._

**Shadow the Hedgehog is owned by SEGA and Team Sonic.

* * *

**II – Realizing Something**

**Usually, when the opposite sex **suggests you go see a neurologist (notice how it's not a _psy_chologist), you get the hint that this opposite-gendered person thinks there's something clearly wrong with you. Hell, even I know this! But obviously, this isn't the case with me and Marie. She's always been the honest type, so if she says there's something wrong with my head, then there's something wrong with my head. Simple as that.

I wasn't sure if she was serious or not about me seeing someone to fix my head. (That's what neurologists do, right—fix the head?) But I decided to take it upon myself to see if some stranger could actually tell me why I was having these visions. Never in my life have I ever expected myself in this situation—where I had to actually _go to someone for help_. Back then I would've clenched my teeth and told Marie, "Fuck that, bitch—I know what's happening here!" But she's proven to me again and again that I required something… domestic in my life.

Besides, these 'lapses' _are_ allowing me to have a weakness.

Finding the neurology office was actually quite easy. When searching for one online (I asked Marie for her laptop; I told her about the unfortunate demise of mine and all she told me was, "Now don't have any weird visions when you're using it, alright?"), I found out that I oddly lived just a few blocks from an office. I didn't want to call for an appointment or do whatever you had to do to meet these neurologists, as I wanted to be as discreet as possible. Hell knows if the media is still hounding after me for 'all the things I've done'.

I still have a reputation, you know.

So, I found the address to this place and decided to take the Hybrid over my Viper (instead of zooming down there with just my shoes—discreet, remember?). Now I'm just hoping that I don't get a 'lapse' while driving.

The morning air seemed fine, just like I was only a few moments ago with Marie, but now I'm starting to question if that's what I really want. Technically, the girl's my maid. Then again, she's the only person I know in the city…

A half-hour later, and I'm right in front of the office. Yes, it did take me that long, with all the Monday traffic—even little children on bikes were passing us. But this was only a small price to pay to keep myself under the radar.

There were two things I noticed about the front of the neurology office: One, the façade was a peach color which reminded me of 10-beer vomit and infant innards; and two, there wasn't a single car other than mine parked in the lot. Some way to be obscure...

Clearing my throat and looking over the front of the building again—"Willington Neurology and Research"—I looked around and reluctantly entered the building as if I were coming into a gay strip club. (Ha!)

… Bad comparisons aside, when I entered the building, I couldn't help but see just how white the office was. If any color were to give you medical nightmares, I think these people chose just the right color to make you feel like you needed to get the hell out of there. Which, for me, I couldn't do.

In front of me was a wide, curved desk which seemed to blend into the glowing white walls. However, the fox who stood behind the desk couldn't have stuck out more, with her dark indigo top and square hat. Since I was the only one there _not_ wearing an indigo outfit, it was pretty easy for the fox to notice me.

I bowed my head to the ground, frowning, as I walked up to the desk. All she did was give me a synthetic smile—showing all her 'pearly whites', as if they were fake teeth. "Welcome to Willington's Neurology and Research office—have you made an appointment?"

Quite clearly, I could see that she said these lines at least . . . once a month. I began to wonder how much they paid her to just stand behind a desk, anxiously waiting for someone to walk in so she could plaster on her genial personality. Or her hospitable one… that seemed more fitting since this _does_ look like a hospital…

"Have you made an appointment?" The fox asked again, this time smiling without her teeth.

"Um… Can I make one now?" I furrowed my brow and gave a small shrug. I wasn't used to these… _people_ things you had to do—in fact, I hated talking to _anyone_ I didn't know, and suddenly I found myself begin to hate this artificial desk girl for making me feel so out of place.

Again, the desperate grin. Taking out a clipboard and pen she said, "Sure! Now I just need you to sign here and note the problem which you have."

"Okay," I said, quite skeptical. Taking the pen, I scribbled in my signature—which just looked like a large backward 'Z' and then a short zigzagging line which you couldn't even tell was my name—and just as I began to pause on the 'Description of Appointment' column, the fox pointed back to my name and asked, "Do you have a last name, sir?"

Shit. Sometimes I forget that in order to live in the city you need some type of surname. Going back to the 'Name' column I scribbled in the same fashion as my first name, 'VanCrimson.'

I don't remember how that got to be my last name. When I first came into this city, I didn't know that 'the Hedgehog' didn't cut it for you, since there were so many residing here already. The name just came to me, I guess, to match my first name. 'Shadow' reminded me of something black, and 'Crimson' was something red, two colors which I both was. The 'Van' part I simply added to make my name look more suitable.

"So Shadow… VanCrimson, right?" The fox looked down at my mediocre signature to try and pick out the letters, then she looked up to me and smiled as if that would cure everything. I nodded, staring at the perfect alignment of her teeth.

"And your problem?" The fox asked.

Looking back down at the sheet of paper, not really minding that her question sounded like an insult, I tried to think of ways of how to curtly address 'my problem'. When she saw that I was tapping her pen on the desk, she politely said, "If you can't describe it, that's fine."

I shot my head up to her and said, "This is kind of an emergency. Can I just meet any doctor?"

Shocked by my suddenness, she pointed towards her left (my right) into the hallway and said, "The last door to your right, Dr. Willington should be in there."

Oh. Usually, you would never see the actual 'doctor' the place was named for, but I guess that was because he was the only neurologist here.

I gave the fox one firm nod and a "Thank you" before making my way down the hallway.

Again, it was like walking down a bright, enlightened path—that's how white and immaculate the place was. Even when I stopped in front of the neurologist's door—the only part of the actual door that was clearly visible was the golden strip which read, "Dr. Willington, Neurological Disorders". I wonder how he must feel having his name and the word 'disorder' on the front of his door.

At this point, I just stood still. Looking around to see if anyone else was here, I noted that this section of the office was barren of people. If I were to talk to this doctor, it would be just him and me. Comforting to know for privacy from others, but also a bit nerve-wrecking.

Then again, my nerves felt like they were already shot, so I decided that it wouldn't hurt to knock.

No one answered.

A bit peeved, I knocked again, louder this time. Right away, the door flung open, revealing a bat wearing a long white coat.

The doctor looked a bit confused to see me there, and I was a bit perplexed myself, not really expecting what I was looking at now. In fact, I wasn't even sure I was looking at Dr. Willington now, until I saw the nametag on the coat. Before I came to a loss of words at the appearance of the neurologist, I managed to mumble out, "Um, this is an emergency?"

—

Dr. Willington was a woman.

I guess I expected to see an elderly male doctor since that was what the name suggested, so to see a young, female bat took me off guard. Maybe because of my small chat with Marie I felt a bit embarrassed to be anywhere around a female, let alone a female who easily resembled another bat I met years ago?

But since this was in a professional setting, I told her everything I told Marie, and then some. I told her when the 'lapses' started, what I was seeing when these visions came up, _when_ I saw the visions, and how they've been affecting my day-to-day activities. Practically, I summarized two weeks of my life to this stranger. Now I _really_ felt vulnerable, and I felt myself begin to scowl.

She noticed this and said, "These… 'lapses' are really bothering you, aren't they?"

She leaned forward and put her hand on my knee.

What was it with woman and them touching people? Was it just me, or were they all this 'touchy-feely'? Either way, I made no inclination to shake her hand off my leg. It reminded me of Marie's hand on mine and her concern, although I had the feeling that this neurologist's touch was more… synthetic. Still, that was fine with me, as I did feel myself become a little less stressed. Everything in this building looked fake, so might as well not fight it.

I nodded towards her answer. "I just want to know how I can get rid of these visions."

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that, yet," the bat patted my knee and stood up.

I stared up at her, trying to look behind her thin-rimmed glasses and wondering just what the hell was going on in that head of hers.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Before getting rid of the problem," she stated as she began searching through her enormous bookshelf, "We have to first _understand_ the problem."

"Okay," I said, noticing that she took her coat off to reveal a sleeveless, turtle-necked top and a dark, knee-cut pencil skirt. Compared to other bats I've seen in my life, this one was a tad bit more… covered. Even though I could still see her legs despite the dark stockings she wore, Dr. Willington looked as if she had a modest wardrobe. As I scanned her body from the back of her head to the heels of her shoes, I started to wonder how she dealt with stereotype that all bats were sluts.

To my surprise, she picked out a thin, worn-out book that looked like it was patched together by two bums. She turned towards the end of the book, pointed at the middle of the page, and said: "_Souvenir involontaire."_

I blinked a few times, trying to read her expression. "Um… what?"

"Otherwise known as 'Involuntary Memory', but scientifically addressed as 'Prenomial Cerebrum Epilepsy'," Dr. Willington began. _"'Desultory combustions of the hippocampus, affecting the disordered individual's declarative memory depending on the time of seizures. Individual feels as if they're thrown into an event which they don't believe they've ever experienced before, when in fact the visions are just buried beneath their memory bank.'_" She stopped, but only for a brief moment. _"'No cures have been found for this extraordinarily rare neurological disorder, though it is suggested to take Neurexis. Unmedicated individuals may start to have these 'mnemonic seizures' more frequently, eventually engulfed in the past and will need heavy sedations to be kept stable…'"_

Dr. Willington shut the book, which let out a musky scent into the air between us. Placing the book down on the table in front of us, the bat gave a nervous laugh and said, "Well, we don't want _that_ to happen now, do we?"

I gave her what must have been the deepest frown I could ever pull off.

Again, she gave a chuckle, taking off her glasses and scratching her head. "Good thing we no longer have to prescribe Neurexis. You can just buy them off-the-counter almost anywhere. I suggest taking one twice a day to keep these visions down to a minimum. Unfortunately that's all I can really do for you…"

_So these visions would haunt me forever…_ I leaned forward and covered my face with my hands, not wanting to hear anything else come out of the bat's mouth. I didn't want to hear _anything_ anymore. Medications wouldn't be able to do _shit_ if they couldn't get rid of these—these—I didn't even know what to call them. Now I know that they were more than just 'lapses', just random things I saw that meant nothing to me… I thought I was done with this! Done with all these lost memories, done with what happened to Maria. _What else was there? _Did that little girl in the fields mean something to me?

Then I realized something. Lifting my face from my hands, I turned to the doctor and asked, "What would happen if-if I unburied all these memories? Would that mean they would go away?"

I must have looked insane, because the doctor just stared at me. "There's only been one other case of this ever happening to someone, and we don't know where they are to study this enough. If these memories were to be recovered, we wouldn't know if the visions would disappear or just cause an instability in your neurological design. These memories must have been buried deep enough for your mind to be used to them there… In a way, these visions are like a thick tumor. Try to remove it, and your mind might rip apart. Disorders like this must be carefully dealt with, as they are extremely rare."

I bit the inside of my lip. Either way, I was going to find these other lost memories—I've done it before. (Only when I uncovered _those_ memories, I had to then prevent Earth from being destroyed by some demon thing… Long story—look it up.) Hopefully, the measures won't be so drastic this time.

But there was another person? I couldn't imagine anyone who'd been through the same shit I've been through (and I'd really like to talk to them if they did), so I was quite curious to know who else had been suffering from these 'lapses'.

"And… who would this other person be?" I didn't move, but my eyes darted towards the neurologist. She mumbled something to herself and picked up the book once again, rummaging through the crinkled pages until she found a name.

"Um… It says here that… A couple years ago, an office in Chandit found a girl who they reported as, 'having intermittent headaches which caused her to go spastic, her rampages lasting from a half-hour to two hours straight.' Not much is really told about her, but her name was…" She scrolled her finger down and tapped the bottom of the page. "Ah! Serenity MoonLight."

_Damn it! Where could I be now?_

_Ugh, my head hurts, my body feels sore… _

_But I'm not in the field anymore. It looks like…_

"Hey!" I heard the doctor's voice, and I attempted to pick myself up to face her, but my back felt like it was carrying a boulder I couldn't lift… Her eyes… Why were they shining like that?

_... I'm floating. The clouds circle around me like a whirlwind, but they're spinning too fast for me to handle. I feel my hands dig into my quills, my fingers prying at the skin beneath my fur. The clouds were such a bright green, they weren't real. They're not real at all…_

"So this is how it looks…" The neurologist encircled me like the clouds in my vision. I keep jumping from my past to the present, their timelines meshing together right in front of my eyes. She looks so sinister…

_"Don't trust her," a young girl's voice whispered. "Just… don't."_

_I was falling through the air, the wind pushing me down and beating at my chest until I hit the dirty soil thirty-thousand feet beneath the clouds. Razors twitched into my view, thin fingers of steel waiting to cut me apart. My view of the sky meshed into a metal background, a whirring sound heard from the distance. The air smelled of iron… The air smelled of blood._

_In the fields, I heard, "You're not playing this game with me."_

_Clutching my head, I felt myself ready to explode._

"It's going to be okay—"

_"Don't trust her…"_

"It's an emergency! I don't know what—"

_Whirring sounds, whirring, whirring…_

"Don't! You—"

_Falling, gnawing…_

The doctor looks scared. Why does she look so scared? Her eyes are glowing a malicious red.

_"You're just seeing things."_

_"Now are you playing or what?"_

"FUCK!" I yelled. "Fuck, fuck—NO! Get—"

I pushed away from Dr. Willington, clawing at the air in front of me—the world looked so stretched and blurry between these visions…

"Get the _fuck_ away!" Now there seemed to be so many people I didn't notice before, yelling obscenities at me when I shoved past them, squinting past women in indigo dresses and holding my head, just trying to push these thoughts away. I had to escape this vomit-colored, this pristine white—Ugh!

The rest of the world gradually began to focus as I stumbled outside of the building, but I still felt my head reeling from side to side and the world still was a mesh of colors. All I needed was some time, and maybe this would…

Neurexis!

Across the street was a drug store, so all I had to do was run between the traffic and I was there. Not an easy task to accomplish when you're half-hallucinating and out of your wits.

I just needed some of that medication… And if the store wasn't carrying it, I'm killing some people today.

Drivers were screaming at how I was weaving between cars, probably asking why the hell some hung-over druggie was stumbling through traffic on a Monday morning.

"Piss off the road, asshole!"

"What the _hell_ does this guy think he's doing?"

"Who gets _high_ in the morning!"

Their honking mixing into their obnoxiously loud voices, meshing with my own fucked-up delusions… I just ran straight through. The chaos around me fought to hold me back, and it didn't even look like I was running anywhere, but I still forced my legs to run straight through the doors of the drugstore and yell, "WHERE THE HELL IS YOUR NEUREXIS?"

Some teenager behind the counter yelled back, "FUCK OFF, MISTER!"

"FICK YOU!" I yelled back. "WHERE'S YOUR NEUREXIS?"

"IN MY PANTS!"

"DON'T PISS ME OFF!"

"AISLE SEVEN, DICKHEAD!"

"FUCK YOU, TOO!"

Within two seconds, I was in the aisle, clawing through endless supplies of every medication _except_ for Neurexis. The annoyance from outside amplified in my mind, my already searing headache growing by the second. My desperation for the medicine turned into frustration, making me punch off a pile of Tylenols from the counter. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Shit—_shit_!"

I was reduced to pulling my quills from the root and swinging back and forth, squatting on the ground so no one would see my humiliation. The delusions refused to wear off, and they began to pound and pound in my skull. I started shaking, panicking, that I couldn't handle this.

From my squat I fell forward on all fours, panting as the visions began to wear off. I bowed my head, relieved to be at some ease again, like someone was pressing the pressure out of my head. I took in deeper breaths, deeper pants to keep me breathing. Then I fidgeted when I felt something lightly bump into my shoulder.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite, little black hedgehog…"

I stopped panting, my nerves straightening out as I began to feel more sober. That's when I realized that the voice sounded so familiar. I looked up to the hand dangling a box of Neurexis, my eyes trailing to the scars on his stomach and the flaps of his leather jacket, all the way up to the green hedgehog's icy eyes.

A deep frown was now set on my face as I studied his smug expression, looking quite satisfied to see me in such a pathetic position. It was pretty hard to forget such a self-righteous smirk, and even though I was starting to forget about him, I found myself despising him all over again.

* * *

WHO is this character that Shadow's starting to hate? WHAT is Shadow going to do now that he knows someone else is having 'lapses'? And why was Shadow having a shout-fest with a teenage boy? And how did those minions get in here? Where did the phrase 'pingas' come from? Who is Salt?

But on a more serious note—sorry if the wording is a bit strange at some parts… Blame Shadow—he's the one narrating all this!

And if you don't know who this mysterious character is at the end smirking at Shadow, then you obviously haven't read the comics. Don't worry—I used to be one of those people too who thought the games were the only source of Sonic I could get, until I stumbled upon a rather interesting storyline which lead me to reading the comics off Youtube… (Trust me, MUCH BETTER than the endless spin-offs SEGA's releasing.) But if you have read the comics and you still don't know who this character at the end is, then… you're just strange.


	3. Bad Acquaintence

Day 3, chapter 3—Oh yeaaah, oh yeaaaah! Unfortunately I don't think I can keep this pace much longer—the only reason I can release chapters so quickly is because it's the summer and, well, I have time. But still, I'll keep on typing this story—which I can probably finish before school starts…? That's a pretty big accomplishment, but we'll see where it goes.

_*BE WARNED: This story's rated M for a reason. May/will contain strong language and highly suggestive/dark themes. You'll see why in later chapters._

**Shadow the Hedgehog/Scourge the Hedgehog is owned by SEGA and Team Sonic/Archie Comics. (So now you know who the mystery character is—bwaha!)

**III – Bad Acquaintance**

**Scourge. In some ways we **were alike, but in many we were different. The last time I saw him was about… eight years ago, when we were flipping through dimensions like it came natural to us. He was a maniac.

As I look at him now, I'm wondering if he's still the power-hungry hedgehog I fought so long ago. I never really socialized with him, nor did I intend to since his personality was so… unbearable.

Everyone hated him. I remember when I was still acquainted with the blue hedgehog, Scourge's counterpart. Or should that be the other way around? All in all, I didn't particularly favor either one, although everyone I was surrounded by took the blue hedgehog's opinion and turned away from Scourge. I didn't feel at all bad for him, since he deserved it, but there was this sinister quality he had that I could strangely connect with. Both of us have had something taken away from us, but for Scourge I wasn't sure what that was. It would be up to him to tell me what that was.

Apparently, he gave up on trying to conquer the anti-verse from which he came from (which was why I was against him before). Why else would he be here, in the middle of a drugstore?

I got up from the floor, wiping myself off and looking away from his satisfied grin. Looking around, I noticed that even the teenage boy I was yelling at earlier left. It was just the green hedgehog and me.

To my astonishment, Scourge locked his arm around my neck and pulled me closer to his face. His breath smelled like whiskey, and I noticed that his eyes were glazed.

"Man, you look like _fuck_," he told me. I pushed him away, and he gave a sort of drunken laugh. Then he threw the box of Neurexis towards me and said, "You needed these?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" was the first thing I decided to tell him as I clawed open the medication. The pills were a lot larger than I thought they were, and as I gulped a couple down, I could feel them bulging against my throat.

"Oh, I was just passing by the neighborhood, smelling the flowers—what the hell answer you _want_ me to give?" He spun away from me, sighing as he folded his arms behind his head. I frowned, just realizing something.

"Shouldn't you be in jail?"

From behind, I could hear him stifle a laugh. "_Should_ I?"

Then he turned back around, his smirk turning into a grimace. Pointing his middle finger at me he growled, "If you tell _anyone_ I escaped from that hellhole, I'll bite your head off."

I furrowed my brow, wondering if he was actually capable of doing that. Unusual metaphor for him to use, but that was probably due to his inebriated state. To be quite frank, I couldn't care less about where he escaped from or where the hell else he's been all these years. His life after the whole anti-verse issue looked like it was filled with cheap 40's, strip clubs, and coke—things which I did not want deal with right now.

As I told him this, he threw up over the adjacent aisle.

I passed by him, turning to walk towards the exit.

Just as my hand pushed open the door, Scourge called out, "Hey! I'm not done talking to you!"

I froze, waiting. I don't know why I waited, nor what I was waiting for from the insufferable green hedgehog. Now that I thought about it, I never really, truly hated him like the others—our feud felt like… like a job. Something that was expected. Nothing personal was taken, we didn't have the same level of animosity that he and the blue hedgehog had. Ours was more mutual.

And by what I knew of him… what _did_ I know of him? That he was an ass? Maybe, but that was eight years ago. And then there was the question of him being in this city—why this one? Despite the morning rushes and criminal activity, this was the quaintest place you could ever live in. Hell, even the gangs shared a sort of companionship. What did he plan on accomplishing here?

Without moving, I said, "I have a question for you."

"No," he retorted. Letting go of my hand on the door, I turned to face him. "No?" I repeated, folding my arms across my chest. I still kept a good grip on the Neurexis he gave me.

"_I_ have a question for _you_," he said, pointing at me first—again, with his middle finger. Shifting his weight as if to fight, he bowed his head down and said, " 'The fuck's wrong with you?"

I blinked, hoping that he could see my bland expression from the aisle he ran out of. To be brutally honest I didn't know whether he was asking me or telling me. Shaking my head, I asked, "What are you trying to say?"

Scourge tisked, waving a hand. With more of a smirk he replied, "You know what I'm getting at, _Shadow_. I come here, shopping like any other average citizen of this _fine_ city, and all of a sudden I see _you_ running in like some fuckin' lunatic yelling at the top of your lungs. Then you're pushin' down all these boxes trying to find some fuckin' _Neurexis_—" He laughs when he says this, "—and the next thing I know, you're curling up into a little bitch ball, whimpering to yourself."

Despite his unusual metaphors, his description of the incident was painfully accurate. Suddenly I felt my cheeks burn with shame, something which I had never experienced until now. Embarrassment wasn't one of those emotions which I was built to cope with.

Scourge saw through my burning visage, his smirk growing larger with content. He was at an advantage, and he knew it.

"So, _buddy_," he said rather harshly than I thought he would, and with more of a mocking affection he purred, "What's wrong?"

And then I hated him all over again. Hated that he was here during my 'lapse', hated that he was still the same Scourge I beat the shit out of years ago—and worst of all, I hated that he made my problem… that he made my problem my weakness.

I walked out, not waiting for him this time.

—

The streets were always crowded around this time, a place to hide but yet also a place to be completely exposed. People seemed to have forgotten my little incident, going out about their own lives with their own screwed-up problems. I was glad that the world was this careless, otherwise there would be a lot more reporters camping in front of my house.

I didn't realize that I didn't know where I was going until I reached the end of the block. The intersection wasn't filled with a lot of noise, besides the engines of cars and the city ambiance in the air. For a morning in July the wind was blowing pretty heavy, shifting my quills to the side. Running a hand through my hair, I looked around, probably looking like a lost little kid. Then when you look at my face you'll realize I'm not a kid, but just a hedgehog with a dire mental problem.

Behind me was an empty bench except for the two young rabbits sitting at one end. I decided to sit on the opposite side away from the little girls, who seemed to be playing some hand game. Even though I was looking down at my medicine box, from the corner of my eye I watched as the children clapped hands and then slapped each others, chanting some tune about a waterfall and being kissed by a 'cute boy'. I wrinkled my nose at such a pointless game, but I was intrigued by the way they laughed and played at such a way to amuse themselves.

I never understood children, or their reasons for the things that they did, but that was probably because I never had my own childhood. What was it like, to be in such a pure form and have such an innocent mind-set? They don't know the world like adults do, but they don't seem to mind either. I wasn't sure if I could be so loose, with the circumstances that were given to me.

Then they stopped playing and began to talk.

"So, Lucia, what did your dad get you for your birthday yesterday?" The young rabbit farthest from me, the dark brown one with green eyes, was the one who was talking.

The white rabbit she was talking to gave a remorseful sigh, which irked me a bit. "He got me what I wanted, but in the wrong color! I asked for a red motorboat, but instead he got me a plain white one—I bet he did that on purpose to tick me off! Sometimes I just hate my dad…"

I could see the darker rabbit look down at her feet, a sad look in her eyes. "Well, at least you _have_ a dad."

The other rabbit gasped and held her friend close. "Oh my gosh, Stella—I'm so, so sorry! I completely forgot about that, I'm so sorry!" Then she promised, "Okay, I won't talk about dads or anything that has to do with dads anymore! I'll just forget I said anything about my dad, okay?"

The brown rabbit's face perked up, but not by much. "I guess you could do that…"

"Great! So, you wanna see the boat?"

The rabbit nodded, her gloominess disappearing instantly. Then they both got up from the bench, crossing the street and holding hands until they were out of my view.

So I sat alone, examining the Neurexis container I just realized I didn't pay for, wondering about the brown rabbit and her father. I found it strange that I wanted to know what happened to him, but I shook the thought away. It wasn't my job to care for things like that, to care for something which doesn't directly affect me.

Leaning back, I sighed as I threw the medicine box next to me so people wouldn't be tempted to sit. Do I force myself to extract concern for others, or am I just naturally heartless?

I started looking around, noticing that the morning rush was beginning to die down. That's when I saw a green hedgehog leaning on the building window next to me, facing away and folding his hands in front of his chest.

For a moment, I didn't believe that was Scourge. I found myself shuffling on the bench, actually feeling uncomfortable that he was there. Another emotion that's not so familiar: discomfort. It felt odd to know that he—

"I didn't follow you, if that's what you think." He was mumbling underneath his breath, but I could hear him clearly. It sounded like he was sober again, but his voice was more rugged and rash. That was probably due to the drugs—but I'm only speculating. When he turned around to face me, his red sunglasses shielded his glazed blue eyes, and a cigarette was sticking out of his mouth.

As he took the smoke out and held it between his fingers, I stood up so I could face him unlike before. Now the tips of our noses were inches apart, but we weren't close enough to make passerbies get the wrong idea. Ugh, some people in this city had some fucked-up minds.

"Out of all the towns you could've escaped to, why this one?" I asked.

I couldn't see his expression from behind his shades, but he did look away and seemed to be thinking about it. After a few seconds I realized he was staring off for a bit too long, so I turned around to see two hedgehogs who were wearing rather risqué outfits, giggling over something they were reading off a cell phone. I admit, I let my gaze trail off a bit to the brim of their short-leather skirts, but I had to make it end there.

Turning back to Scourge, I gave him an exasperated glare.

"Man, don't you just _love_ teenage girls nowadays," he exclaimed, still ogling behind his glasses as he stuck the cigarette back in his mouth. "What I would _do_ to them… Motherfucker…"

He turned his gaze back to me, shrugging when he saw my blank expression. "Well, that's _one_ reason why I came to this city!" Then he let out some hybrid between a stifled gasp and a cough. Looking around (probably for some more asses) he continued, "And, I have some work that needs to be done here… That, I'm not telling you!"

His last answer confused me. What _work_ could Scourge have in a city like this? More than likely it was gang-related, or something falling under that category, so I decided not to ask him that.

He then swiped off his glasses to reveal sober, striking blue eyes, and then he exclaimed to me, "Bitch!"

I slightly turned to see if another girl was there, but then he added, "You didn't answer my question from before—now tell me," he leaned his whole weight on the building, glaring up at me, "Why the Neurexis package? You into the shit, too?"

Instead of his pompous attitude he gave before, Scourge looked pretty serious as if he _needed_ to know.

So, I told him.

I told him everything which I told Dr. Willington, adding in the part where I started hallucinating from her office into the store. The only things I left out were _what_ my hallucinations consisted of and that there was another girl somewhere in Chandit with the same problem. "And that," I said, just to mock him, "I'm not telling you."

Laughing, he said, "Why? Are they wet dreams?"

Once again, I gave him my blank expression.

"But other then that, that's…" Scourge wagged his cigarette around his face, forming a thin smokescreen between us. He tried to think of a word in which to describe my situation, and I found myself doing the same thing.

"… That's fucky," was what he came up with. I nodded, oddly agreeing with him. I guess that was what I was going through now, as nice as it didn't sound.

"So," he sighed, pushing his sunglasses up to his forehead as he stretched his arms up, "Now we have some mutual understanding… what now?"

I put my fists on the sides of my waist, shaking my head as I looked down at the concrete sidewalk. "I don't know yet."

Both of us just stood in an awkward silence, taking in each other's situations. I think I told him more than I should've, but he seemed to take it all in a mature fashion, something I don't think he could've done eight years ago. Taking in a deep breath, I realized that by telling Scourge I lifted a weight off my chest. Either that or the Neurexis was kicking in.

"Hey, um…" The green hedgehog put his cigarette hand behind his head, his eyes wandering off in thought. "I kinda escaped from jail not too long ago, so… I don't have a real place to stay in."

Shifting my weight, I could see where this was headed, and I wasn't sure if I liked that or not.

"I've just been chilling in nightclubs and motels and dirty shit like that, so… Could I stay at your place?"

I bit the inside of my bottom lip, looking away from his pleading gaze. Do I _really_ want a character like Scourge staying at my place? Hell no. But looking at the green hedgehog in front of me now, I could see that he changed for the better—that he grew up. He may not be as likable when he's high or drunk, but he looked perfectly reasonable when he was clear-headed and sober. Besides, having him over would mean gaining another connection in the city. I learned the hard way that connections could get you anywhere.

"Fine," I said, for some reason elongating the 'f'. As I lent out my hand in agreement I added, "But don't do anything _weird_ in my house, m'kay? You already know I'm having these mental issues…"

Scourge looked like he was going to burst with joy and happiness and rainbows and whatever else happy people did. Whispering, "Yes!" as if he just made a score with the two teenage girls from earlier, he shook my hand and said, "I never do _anything_ weird… Everything I do, I do it the normal way—even fucking."

… I wished I added that he couldn't _say_ anything weird, either… But, I'm letting that one go for now. I'm just hoping that I didn't make the wrong decision with this green hedgehog.

It wouldn't be long before I found out I'd made a very bad acquaintance.

As I walked with him towards my car he asks, "Hey, you don't happen to have any crack at the house, do you?"

HeeHeeHee, I made Scourge sound so junkie.

… I HIGHLY recommend you read the Sonic Comic issues via Youtube that contain Scourge in them to get to know how he is as an actual character—I mean, he is _evil_ in those books! He makes Shadow looks like a wussie with the things he does! (but then Shadow doesn't act as 'bad-ass' in the comics, which makes me sad … Aw…)

Reading Scourge's back-story kind of makes reading this a bit easier to know, especially with all the anti-universe stuff the comics add and what's being talked about here. He's somewhat of a major character in this story, but if you're too lazy to read them, then FINE! I'm just suggesting it—'cause the comics are actually a whole lot better than the games, heh! Well, the current ones now…

I know, it took me I think three days to release this, and personally I don't think it's as good as my previous chapters (I'm losing my touch! NOOO!) … I had some real-life stuff happening, so that kind of delayed this also—but iz'zall good… iz'zall good up in here—I'll make sure Chapter Four BLOWS YOUR BRAINS IN YOUR FACE. Now you may ask, is that possible? In my world: yes.


	4. Hanging Low

ARGH! I hate how Fanfiction messes up the formatting of my story—explaining why my last chapter's format looked so weird. Grrr, even when I save the changes, the changes don't save… Gah…

But on a lighter note—yay, another chapter! I'm not sure if you'll like this one as much, since I'm still suffering from writer's block (explaining why it took so long to write this—it's been, like, a year!). Right now I'm just trudging on to write this story, but it's still gonna be the best dang thing you've ever read IN YOUR LIFE! I hope, at least, yeah.

NOTE: I DO NOT encourage drug use and have never and do not plan on doing drugs. My information was found on websites, and I only include them in this story… for the sake of the story.

_*BE WARNED: This story's rated M for a reason. May/will contain strong language and highly suggestive/dark themes. You'll see why in later chapters._

**Shadow the Hedgehog/Scourge the Hedgehog is owned by SEGA and Team Sonic/Archie Comics.

**IV – ****Hanging Low**

**I actually ****did have** **a** stash of my own stimulants, but I wasn't about to let Scourge know that.

It wasn't something I flaunted to junkies or anyone for that matter, and since these 'lapses' started, my hefty supply was dwindled to a few plastic bags. Sometimes I liked to think that I had an _exotic_ collection; I never had a peculiarity for street prescriptions. Most of my supply I gained from jobs (I'll explain later) which involved some illegal imports from high-drug countries. You might think of it as stealing, but I thought of it as an errand 'bonus'.

Was I addicted? Technically, no. My brain didn't have that 'dependence' factor, probably explaining why I don't have a hobby. In fact, the way I was designed I was impervious to harmful chemicals. The way my body intakes substances like opium and marijuana was no less different than eating tofu. I only got mild highs from tonics, only using when I needed to relax, and even that required extremely large doses.

As I turned into the driveway of my house, I heard Scourge give a long, impressed whistle. "What the hell have _you_ been doing all this time?"

I took it as a rhetorical question and didn't answer.

We made our way into the house. The way Scourge's mouth gaped as he looked around made me give my own secretly satisfied grin.

My home was located in an isolated corner away from the bustle of the city, on a cliff which stuck out into the ocean. Now as I'm looking up to my home, I realize that the architecture isn't very traditional. It had a boxy shape to it, like clean, concrete white containers stacking on top of one another. A bit too white for my taste, but it was clear-cut.

The interior looked no different, shadows casting shades of gray on the pallid walls and floor. When it turned dark, the house's light interior would dim to a mellow midnight blue, something which I always admired about my home. It was about 2 o' clock in the afternoon when we came, the walls an ashen gray.

Scourge started looking around, exclaiming obscenities at the objects that I had displayed.

"Holy hell, is that one of those 3D high-def TVs? 60", fuck!

"Man, is your kitchen stuffed! How many types of lettuce could you possibly have, you fucking vegan?

"And why the hell all these books?"

I gave a frustrated sigh, running my hands through my quills. He _just_ came in, and already I'm regretting my decision to let him stay. "Calm the hell down!" I exclaimed. "I'm sure you've seen a house like this before."

The green hedgehog scoffed, giving a playful spin towards me. Sometimes I questioned whether he was high or sober. " 'Course I've seen better than this—I used to live in a _castle_, remember?"

Yeah, I remembered. Back during his whole 'evil tyrant' episode, he actually succeeded in taking over the anti-verse… but only for a short amount of time. Then me, the blue hedgehog, another _white_ hedgehog, and a whole lot of other hedgehogs I had no idea why they were there threw him out of power. It's a long story—as I said before, look it up.

My ears twitched, catching the rhythm of footsteps coming down the stairs. I instantly spun my head to Scourge, his eyes fixed on the flight of stairs, and thought: _Shit._

Cursing under my breath, I mentally slapped myself for forgetting two important details before letting Scourge come: One, that Marie stayed here too, and that Scourge was an undeniably perverted womanizer. Fuck, why did that just _flee_ out of my mind when he asked if he could stay? My mind suddenly filled with images of Scourge's blurry eyes trailing down Marie, filthy thoughts swirling around in that sick mind of his.

He gave a cocky smile when he saw Marie coming down, eying me with his steely blue eyes.

The look on her face when she saw Scourge there took her aback, and she paused in the middle of the staircase. I covered my face with my hands when I saw what she was wearing.

Her hands trailed to the bottom of her alluringly short, leopard silk robe, lightly tugging to gain a few centimeters more of cloth on her legs. "Um, Mr. Shadow," she said as she nervously smiled, "Whose your visitor?"

"Um…" I frantically looked for some words to fill my mouth, but Scourge was the one who caught them.

Giving a pretty rude laugh, he turned to me and said, "_Mister_ Shadow? Wow, that's pretty… that's pretty kinky."

"Shut up, Scourge…" I muffled between my hands, looking up to a very hurt Marie. She gave the most disgusted scowl I had ever seen her make—in fact I've never seen her pissed in the years I'd known her.

Crossing her arms in front of her low-neck, she could only say, "_Excuse_ me?"

Scourge just had no idea how to cover that booze-scented, slippery mouth of his. "Not only do you have the greens to pay for this place, but you have the _bitches_, too?"

"I am _not_ a bitch!" Marie's soft face turned a burning shade of red, stomping down the stairs (careful not to let her robe fly up) and yelling to me, "Who is this!"

"He's, err—"

"It's fine, Shadow, you don't have to explain yourself," Scourge said, putting up his hands in mock defense. I scowled at him as well, but his mouth just continued to run. "I mean, I had my share of whores, too, it's nothing to be ashamed about. You know, I've had at _least_—"

And then something… _wonderful_ happened. I didn't expect it, even from someone as heated as Marie. I saw as she marched towards the green hedgehog, who didn't see her because he was too engrossed in telling me about whores. With one swift movement, Marie punched – not slapped, _punched_ – the side of his face with such strength that it knocked him backwards. I had to blink a few times to register what I just saw.

Then she made her ways towards me. I stood up a bit straighter, gaining a new level of respect for the petite Brit. Pointing her thumb back at the now-groaning Scourge, she asked, "Who the hell _is_ this guy?"

"He's… Well, I guess he's a friend—" Apparently the word 'friend' was an error in word choice, because she gawked at me and gasped as if I told her she was fat. "This hedgehog is your _friend_? You socialize with people like _him_?"

Scourge groaned in the background, starting to get up as he rubbed his sore cheek. He never took it kindly when someone, especially a woman, hit him. "You cunt," he spit. "You're gonna—"

"You shut the FUCK up, you hear me?" Marie snapped her face towards the hedgehog and pointed a finger, her eyes turning dark with her glare. Even though I stepped back for safety reasons, I had to give a soft smile when I saw that she was using her middle finger to point at the hedgehog.

It was astonishing to see that he listened and kept his mouth shut.

I suddenly realized that I shouldn't tell Marie that he was staying here. Unfortunately, Scourge wasn't the one to see that.

"You do know," he stated towards Marie, "That I'm gonna be bunking here, right?"

"What in hell is _bunking_?" Marie asked, apparently not used to American slang.

Before I could tell Scourge to shut it, he said, "That means I'm gonna be _staying_ here - stupid cunt …"

It was like you could see her heart sink in her little body. Not sure what expression to make, she sucked in her lips and twisted her head towards me. With a dangerously low voice and tinted blue eyes she asked me, "He's… staying… _here_?"

"L-look," I mumbled, wondering why I was seeing three spinning versions of Marie. _Oh no, again…?_

"It's a long story, w-why Scourge is here, Marie…"

She rolled her eyes and gave a snort which I didn't know could come out of her little frame. "So his name's _Scourge_? Wonder why…"

"Marie isn't such a fitting name, either," I heard Scourge say.

Then she tilted her head to the side, furrowing her brow. "Mr. Shadow," she said, gaining some of her motherly manners back, "Are you okay?"

"I-I'm fine," I shook my hand in front of her, looking down at the hazy white floors… This didn't feel like a 'lapse' with strange visions, but more like I was going to faint… "I knew Scourge from a long time a-ago, he just happened to be in the city so…"

I felt my eyes droop, the world gradually spinning into a mesh of colors. Their voices asking what was wrong with me faded into the blurry haze, and my sight began to dim to blackness. One by one, all my senses began to leave me, until I felt my mind shut down and my body hit the floor.

"… _You're not leaving, are you?"_

_It was the little girl. Her multi-colored eyes stared up at me, an innocence in her blue eye but an ominous glow in her red. We were in a room—a children's bedroom to be exact. Was it hers?_

_I found myself looking down at the girl, a remorseful smile on my face. "Of course I'm not," I said, ruffling her quills. She gave a childish giggle, trying to shoo away my hand. "What makes you say that?"_

"_Well…" The young hedgehog hid her bashful grin between her two small fists, turning her hips from side to side. "Mommy said you were going to leave because…"_

_I cocked my head to the side, wondering who 'Mommy' was. "Your mom said…?"_

"_She-she said that—" she continued, her smile wearing away, "—that you're a very bad hedgehog… very, very bad…"_

"… Is he getting up?"

"Yeah, looks like it. Who the hell knows why he fainted like some tipsy chick…"

"Did you _really_ have to use that comparison?"

"The moment called for it, babe."

"Don't call me that."

"Whatever."

I grunted, shifting around in the covers of my bed, tired of hearing so many voices. As my mind began to clear, I got up and leaned on my mattress, rubbing my head. That's when I saw that the only people whose voices I could hear were Marie's and Scourge's.

Looking around, I could see that Marie got to cleaning up my bedroom. Once again, my numerous stacks of books were neatly packed into my shelf (which I wondered how Marie got back to sitting upright. But seeing her temper, I could see that she could do a lot more than I thought…) and my split laptop lay destroyed on my desk. The air lost its usual musky scent, but that was probably because of Marie's perfume since she sat next to me.

Scourge was sitting on the opposite end of the room, leaning down on one of my leather seats staring at my box of Neurexis. He didn't look at all phased by my lengthy black-out, since he said in such a monotone without looking up, "You're pretty heavy for such a short hedgehog."

I sat upright as I ran my fingers through my quills. "You're probably my height, Scourge," I mumbled.

He snorted. "Sure."

Scratching my head, I became aware of something: This sudden black-out I had… differed from my previous 'lapses'. For one, I didn't destroy anything. And I didn't have any strange delusions; at least I don't think I did… I don't remember _anything_ after falling unconscious.

I turned towards Marie, who was giving me a look of... pity? The way her eyes sunk into a mellow blue, and the way the edge of her lip was turned down… I tiled my head to the side, mirroring her expression as I asked, "How long was I out?"

"Six hours, Shadow," she replied with worry. And I noticed that she abandoned the "Mr." honorific she so sweetly addressed me as. I turned to Scourge with a glare, but he didn't seem to notice.

He was still scrutinizing my prescription, which I then realized I didn't pay for. Compared to his flamboyant demeanor before, he now looked… older. If furrowing his brow as if in anger made him look more mature, then I would rather he did that than what he usually did. Still, it felt odd to know I was staring at the 'adult' side of Scourge (and the kid part would probably giggle at how wrong that sounded.)

After a silence which lasted too long to be natural, the green hedgehog flung the Neurexis to the side and leaned forward in his seat, his angry expression fading back to his usual nature. "So, you're finally awake."

My glare softened to confusion. Did he _just_ realize that I was conscious?

Intertwining his hands' fingers and bending them forward to crack, he stretched and yawned as if _he_ were the one who was sleeping. Then with a quick jump, he was standing tall on his feet and smirking at me from my bed. "Quit being a fat-ass and get up—we have places to be."

I did get up, but not because Scourge said so.

The arrogant hedgehog before me rubbed his hands together. "I figured that if you allowed some jail-breaker like me stay here, I… might as well _assist_ you in whatever endeavors you have."

Amiable words coming from such a scourge. "Wait," I said with suspicion. "Are you being… _nice_?"

It was surprising to know that my comment actually offended him. "You think this is _niceness_? Hell no!" He came and uncomfortably wrapped an arm around my shoulders, bring my ear closer to his face as he hissed, "I _know_ what business you get into to get some cash rolling, and I want in."

I risked a glance at Marie to see what she thought of all this, but her expression was as blank as day. She never thought to ask what occupation I, well, occupied, and there was a reason I kept it that way. My job wasn't one you openly expressed, despite the generous pay, and I figured that the more I brought in, the less she would think about asking.

But Scourge, somehow, some way, tainted my relationship with Marie. I wasn't going to allow him to cause any more damage.

Pushing the sadistic hog away, I said, "The only reason you're staying here is because no one else would take you."

"Like a stray dog," Marie murmured.

"Something like that," I agreed. "And what would make you think that I need your help?"

He snickered, something which I have come to hate about him: that jubilant grin of his. It reminded me of another blue hedgehog's long ago.

More seriously he stated, "I found you groveling in the middle of a pharmacy. You probably don't even remember that after _suddenly_ falling unconscious, do you? C'mon," he jeered. "You need me."

I couldn't help but snarl, not because he was right, but because he once again pointed out my vulnerability. Blacking out at random times wasn't something I could control, so I never knew when the time would come. For two weeks, I was fearing for myself, waiting for the time my 'lapse' came. And when it did, I was always disappointed because they came so unexpected, and I could learn nothing from it. Even Marie knew something was wrong when I started to become more dependent on her.

Scourge was just stating the obvious. I felt like strangling him. But he was right, for once: Even though I had no idea how a druggie could help me, he was all I could get in this city.

"_And what would make you think that I need your help—"_ Damn, did I set myself up for that one.

"Fine," I said without looking at him. "Where to?"

"That… is a secret." The green hedgehog took a glance at Marie, and I noticed. "What, isn't she going?"

"We've already had our talk, didn't we, Honey?"

She flipped him off.

"You know, I'm starting to like her," he told me. "C'mon, let's go."

As he was making his way out, I turned to Marie and asked, "Will you be fine here, by yourself?"

With a suppressed smile she gave a thumbs up. "Always am."

"Hm." With one more reassuring glance, I followed Scourge out of my room, still wondering what him and Marie did in those six hours I was gone…

After twenty minutes of driving around the city plaza, Scourge forced me into a restaurant aptly named LaCourbure. 'Courbure, which I knew meant 'curve' in French (don't ask how I know that), was exactly was the café was: a very curvy place. Curved tables, curved seats—even the waitresses, I assumed, were hired based on their curviness. A part of me suspected that was why Scourge chose this place. But, since it was cleaner than the few restaurants I'd ever been in, I couldn't complain.

"Two mochas and le gâteaus—with extra cream," Scourge told the waitress as if it were an announcement. I stared at him, astonished that he even knew the French phrase for 'chocolate cake'.

She jotted the order down in a notebook. "Would that be cream on the mochas or the le gâteaus?" The waitress asked. There wasn't a hint of French in her voice; she couldn't even pronounce the foreign-named items on the menu. If anything, she was more likely a college student just working here part-time.

"Cream on both, babe." Then Scourge gave a charming smile and said, "Do you come with cream as well?"

The question took her aback, and I wasn't surprised that she was surprised. As voluptuous as she was to the restaurant's standards, the echidna's pointed face was masked by a thick set of glasses and wide pores. I assumed no man has ever tried to flirt with her, so to Scourge's comment she just gave a shy giggle and said, "No." Then she walked off—or more like power-walked off, attempting to hide her pathetic squeals.

The green hedgehog before me gave a heavy sigh, like it was such hard work to talk to a waitress. "Sometimes I feel bad for the ugly ones," he mused, stretching across the table.

"You didn't have to order for me," I said, noticing that he ordered two of each of the items.

He scoffed. "Who said that I ordered for _you_?"

I opened my mouth to say something, but went against it. Even before I met Scourge in the pharmacy, I knew that arguing with someone who wanted to rule the anti-verse was pointless.

Scourge must have seen my lack for words, and looked just as confused. "What? I just assumed that you never ate at restaurants." More factually he replied, "I can just _see_—just by looking at you, I can tell you're one of those annoying 'I'll-just-have-a-glass-of-water' people. Can't just order _food, _'cuz you're afraid you'll get fat or something."

"I was built to keep a constant weight, so that will never happen."

"Well aren't you the lucky bitch?"

My eye gave a twitch, a side effect I gained from my 'lapses'. Did he forget that _he_ was the one who forced me to come here? But I wasn't about to argue with a junkie. And, as much as I hate to admit this, he was right; I learned the hard way that the only clean item on the menu, even at French restaurants, was the water.

"Anyway," Scourge rubbed his hands together, "Down to business." He leaned closer, even though we were secluded from the rest of the café next to a window, where I could see my car.

"Before, I told you I had some unfinished work here, right?"

I nodded. He looked around, as if anyone were spying on two male hedgehogs in a French café. But just as a precaution, I darted my eyes around as well. Nothing was noticeably amiss, other than the couple across from us who looked like they were going to kill each other.

In a low voice Scourge then asked: "Ever heard of The Cut?"

The Cut… I knew them to be a ruthless organization in the criminal underworld, dealing with illegal imports, hitmen, drugs, prostitution—name a crime, and they had a branch just for it. They were a sect I knew all too well during my time in the city.

"Wait," I said before letting him continue. "You had business with The _Cut_?"

"What do you mean _had_—I still do. Actually, it was just one large deal, but I never got my share because of this one prissy-bitch. Apparently, I screwed his girl, so held told someone to tell someone else my business to the feds. They knew everything—my business records, where I lived. And of course, someone flared to them that _I_ was the one in the whole anti-verse fiasco, so they added _that_ to my jail time as well. No way in hell was I serving the life-sentence—so I ditched when I could. It wasn't that hard, actually, now that I think about it…"

There was a reason I wasn't surprised. Scourge could have gone to meet a couple Buddhists, and even _they_ would want to kill him afterwards. There was a word for hedgehogs like Scourge—the same word I used for this other particularly pink hedgehog—but the phrase escapes me at the moment. I'll probably remember it later.

"Can I just ask," I said, "what _sort_ of deal you made with The Cut?"

"…You know me pretty well, right Shadow? Everything I've ever done… It's not for anyone else but myself. To me, people are just… accessories you wear to the fight, and the winner is whoever has the most fuckers dangling around their necks. Nothing matters but the outcome.

"…I asked for a hundred thousand rings if I brought them twenty virgins."

I couldn't keep myself from raising my eyebrows. Twenty virgins, one hundred thousand rings… That made five thousand rings per virgin.

"…I'm surprised you didn't ask for more."

"I would've upped it to a million, but I doubt I could find enough women worth fifty grand each. Five per bitch is enough."

I didn't know whether to feel amused or horrified. He could probably read these mixed emotions on my face, because then he said:

"Before you say anything, _Shadow_, let me tell you something. This city, this world: It's full of lying cunts. At first sight, you see a glorious and innocent girl—but in the end, they all die with gaping mouths and bloody orifices. No matter what—even if it's not their fault. These women which I gave them—"

"You mean _girls_. The Cut doesn't take _women_, so to speak."

He snarled. "These _bitches_ which I gave them—I found them empty and callous, but none of them were flashing between their legs." He accompanied his snarl with a boyish grin, making him appear demented. "Pure like glistening cocaine."

Pure like a virgin.

"They all deserved what came to them. In fact, they all should be thanking me. There they were, rotting their lives away—and I gave them purpose. We don't get AIDS or whatever shit humans get, so they can have all the sex they want without worrying about anything. Plus they're taken care of and fed—"

"Until they get old or pregnant."

He gave me a dastardly look. "Yeah," he said, "Until they're old or pregnant."

There was a sudden empty feeling growing in the pit of my stomach which had nothing to do with the cake sitting in front of me. I could not tell if this was some sort of sympathy I was feeling for these faceless girls, having to have met someone as wicked as Scourge and to be submerged in his dark reality. A part of me wanted to reach across the table and punch him, but I refrained from doing so for some odd reason I can't put my finger on. His outlook towards people and the world were not that different from mine, but his views were a more twisted version of my own opinions. At the same time, he sounded like he was insulting me as he was insulting those virgins when he took them in. Of course, the only difference is I cannot get old or pregnant, as both are impossible for me to achieve.

A waitress came, a different one this time, more attractive for Scourge to feast his eyes on, but her pursed lips and the way she slammed our food on the table suggested that she didn't want to be fucked with at the moment. How unlucky for Scourge.

As he was picking at one of the lofty pieces of cake with his fork, I casually slammed my hand on the table. "Let's assess the situation," I said. He looked up with his opal eyes. "You made a deal with one of the most malicious gangs in Mobius, promising them twenty virgins for one hundred thousand rings."

"That's what I said."

"Alright." Scourge was starting to become impatient, furrowing his brow as he stuffed a wedge of cake down his throat. "And, assuming you already found these girls, you decided to hook with a woman who was the girlfriend of the man you were dealing with. Correct?"

He put down his fork.

"He found out about this affair and decided to tell law enforcers that you were trafficking underage girls, as a means of revenge, I suppose. This led enforcement into a much deeper hole about your other criminal activities, and they decided to track you down and lock you up for life."

"Until I _escaped_."

"Yes, until you escaped."

I watched as Scourge continued on to his second platter of le gâteaus. He sliced the cake into thin strips with his fork, then dipping them into the mocha as If they were pieces of bread. The cake was too light to hold much of the mocha and dropped into the cup with a small splash. Scourge frowned at what his cake had done.

"So," I continued, "I can assume that you didn't get your money?"

"I lost the whores," he said in a low voice, looking down at his mocha. "All of them." His eyes started to slowly look up from his beverage and into my own, as if I could somehow relate to his situation. All of his attitude and dick-like behavior flew out the window, leaving the shell of a hedgehog behind. "Do you know how I kept all those girls in one place?" He said. "I rented two apartments, one on top of the other. I told all of them that they were in a contest for Miss Mobius, and that they would all stay in the apartments until a bus came to pick them up. None of them bothered to tell their folks… they dangled their nymphet bodies in front of me, waiting for me to bite into them. They partied and drank till they vomited, not knowing that I spiked the alcohol they were getting their drinks from. Like flies, one by one, their bodies fell onto couches and onto barstools—one of them even fell into the pool, it was hell getting her out without her drowning. I stripped off their clothes, lugged them into a truck, and took them to an abandoned house with a large basement. I tied up their hands and feet and threw them in there, making sure they weren't bruised or cut. No one wants to buy damaged goods..."

He grabbed his cup of mocha as if strangling someone's neck and gulped it down, still steaming hot. Slamming it onto the table he looked at the mug and said, "This was about two months ago."

He looked up at me. "I need to find new broads."

I threw the palm of my hand to my forehead, covering it completely. I dragged my hand down my face, rubbing my palm against my neck. Scourge did not change his expression, and neither did I.

Looking into his eyes, I felt like I was sinking into them, so to save myself I looked out the window into the parking lot where my car…

I slammed my palms into the table and stood up, staring and staring at the vacant space where my car had been, hoping that it was just the illusion of the sunlight that made it look like it had disappeared. Instead, I saw it drive away into the crowded streets. Scourge turned his face to where I was looking and gave a low whistle.

"Shit," I hissed, and I ran out the door without bothering to pay, the green hedgehog running close behind me.

_**Alright, I'll start bolding**__** and italicizing these words so you can see where the end of the chapter's at.**_


	5. Grand Theft

I just wanted to say thanks to those who favorited my story and/or put it in your Alerts, because if you haven't I wasn't going to continue this story… but now Imma continue it, thanks to all you good people! The first part of this story, though, I got a bit lazy because I'm not too good at action sequences, but hopefully you know what I'm taking about when you read it. I was inspired by GTAIV, since I just got my Xbox 360 fixed. Power to da playerz!

_*BE WARNED: This story's rated M for a reason. May/will contain strong language and highly suggestive/dark themes. You'll see why in later chapters._

**Shadow the Hedgehog/Scourge the Hedgehog is owned by SEGA and Team Sonic/Archie Comics.

**V – ****Grand Theft**

**Hotwiring a car requires quickness **and precision, the latter being completely ignored by my criminal methods. Assembling all the Chaos power I had in my hands, I shot all the energy into the engine and flung open the driver seat's door, ripping it off of its hinges and into someone else's vehicle. I put myself behind the wheel, since it is _my_ car we're chasing after.

"It's like Grand Theft Auto," Scourge said, standing around. "Except around here, the police _really_ don't care."

"Just get in the fucking car." I unlocked the door for him, and he quickly slid into the passenger seat next to me. He clicked on his seatbelt, which I thought was a detail Scourge would ignore. Some people had their quirks, after all.

My car disappeared into the mesh of traffic, and I intended to crash into every one of those cars till I reached what I had bought with my hard-earned money. That piece of shit costed me 40,000 rings.

I sped into the sea of vehicles, scratching and bumping into every van, truck, and mustang that was in the way. However, driving through city traffic in the afternoon was not an ideal place to chase a car.

"All this traffic—what the _fuck_, I hate this!" I honked my horn at least a dozen times to the same car.

"Jesus, Shadow, just drive around him—it's not like we're fuckin' following the rules right now!"

"Since when the hell did you care about rules? Holy hell, if that bastard leaves a dent on my car…"

"Relax, that's what insurance is for."

I looked straight ahead, bowing my head a bit lower than usual.

"Shadow… you have insurance, right?"

Finally, the cars started to back off and leave room for me to drive through. "Insurance… what?"

"Shadow! Even I know that you need insurance for a car, look at me—even _I_ know!"

"Alright we get it, you're stupid, but I've never had any need for insurance. For me, it was just wasting money."

I could see the back of my car in front of a white Mustang, and I slammed my foot against the accelerator, hoping that the car I was driving was sturdy enough to take collateral damage. I hit the sides of other cars, and I realized that I was starting to drive _against_ traffic.

Scourge groaned and sunk into his seat, holding the handle of the car door. "Whatever. Just don't black out while we're all in the middle of this, 'kay? The last thing I want to do right now is _die_."

"I think I'm too preoccupied right now to be thinking about that." I kept my eyes in front of me, thought in the back of my mind I started to anticipate if I would black out in this car chase. "Besides, if something does happen to me, you could always take the wheel."

Scourge pursed his lips and stared after a crashing car.

I furrowed my brow. "Fine, I'll pay you, since you obviously don't care about what happens to my car, anyway."

"No, it's not that, it's…"

Scourge refusing money? Even in the midst of all these cars and chaos, this did make me pause. "What, you don't know how to drive or something?"

The green hedgehog looked back at me.

"Oh shit, you don't know how to drive. But what was that story you were telling me, about how you took those girls and drove off in that truck?"

"I hired someone to drive—I just hate it! I always think I'm going to run into something."

I got out of traffic and onto a normal road with minimal cars driving around. I ran into a postal box, sending it flying through the air and crashing into someone's sedan.

"But still—_you_ don't know how to drive?"

"_You_ don't have car insurance?"

I gave an extremely loud groan, watching my car speed off into the distance. "That's my car—my _fucking_, fucking car! Gr-rah!" Once again I slammed my foot against the gas pedal, except this time it couldn't take as much force. I felt the pedal snap, and I felt my foot against it and felt no more pressure.

"Oh shit. The gas."

"Hit the brakes—get the fucking brakes!" Scourge screamed, holding himself back. "No," I said, "not until I catch this sonofabitch." The speed gradually grew higher and higher, and I was beginning to catch up to my car.

"Scourge," I said, "I'm going to jump."  
"What!"

I let one hand go of the wheel to open my car door. "Keep driving while I try to aim for the back window." Taking out a gun, I aimed it towards the back of my car and shot the glass pane into shards. The car shook with Scourge's amateur driving.

"Screw this," he said, "I'm going from the top—you do your own thing, whatever." I watched him open the passenger window and come out on top of the hood. As if his way was safer than mine, jumping out of a speeding car.

With one hand on the wheel, another with a pistol, I aligned myself with the back of my car. Putting one foot on my seat—letting go of the gas completely—I pushed myself off and jumped into the trunk of my stolen car.

I could hear the thief scream, "What the fuck?" as I climbed over the back seats and attempted to strangle him with one arm.

As this was happening, I could see Scourge in the distance, lying on the top of the car I was previously driving. His frame was growing smaller and smaller, and the car was going to crash into a barbed fence ahead. I strangled the guy tighter, attempting to cut off his circulation.

"Wait-I can… I can—"

"You can what?"

"I'll tell… I'll tell you everything…"

A green hedgehog's body crashed into the front of my car. Apparently he had let go of the speeding car, now tangled in wire, and allowed the forces of gravity push him back into the front of mine.

Just as we were about to collide into the trunk of the crashed car, the guy veered to the left. It didn't look like he was going to stop anytime soon, so I put the pistol to his head and said, "Stop the car."

He was smart not to hesitate; he smashed his foot against the brakes, resulting in throwing Scourge back out of the car and onto the hard concrete road. Other than his btiching about being thrown around like a crash dummy, we could hear the screams and ambulances from far behind us. All I could worry about was how to replace the glass panes on my car, but we couldn't be near the chaos we had caused.

I yelled at Scourge to come back into the car. He pushed himself back up, leaning on the hood and slowly limping into the back seat. "Motherfucker, you better put a fuckin' bullet to his head _soon_." The jacker, who was wearing a ski mask (how original), began panting hard through the fabric on his mouth. If I was going to deal with this prick, it would have to be in private.

I pushed the gun back into his head. "Drive," I told him, "preferably somewhere where no one can hear you scream…"

He parked into a back alley littered with rusty metal and tobacco wrappers, but it was secluded and I was sure none of his gang buddies would be able to interrupt. It was the perfect place for interrogation.

I shoved the barrel of the gun into his armpit and asked, "Who the hell are you and why did you take my car?"

"Okay, if we can all just calm down here…"

I gave him what Scourge referred to as a 'bitch-slap'. "Everything _was_ calm until you came and tried to jack my car!"

"Fine! Fine. Just put the gun down, 'kay?"

I kept my eyes on him as I slowly put the gun back in my pocket. Over the years, I have learned that aggression was not to be used while trying to find answers (and I used to be a very aggressive person).

"Jesus," the guy said through his mask. "Look, I'll leave and you can take back your stupid car, okay?"

He was about to open the car door when I whipped out my gun again and said, "No, that is _not_ how this works!"

So much for passive-aggressive.

"You know who I am, don't you? People just don't try to steal my car and then walk away when they've been caught."

"I-I just owed a guy some money, and this car looked like it could pay my debt, plus add a little more cash on the side…"

"You see?" Scourge said from the back seat of the car. "This is why you don't drive sports cars around this side of town."

_I've lived here longer than you_, I lamely thought. _I think I'd know where to and where not to drive around here._ "Well at least I know _how_ to drive a car."

That shut him up. I should remind him of that more often.

Suddenly the guy sat up straighter in his seat, staring at Scourge as if he didn't know there was a third person. He took off his mask, revealing amber quills and wide purple eyes, and said, "Scourge? Is that you?"

The way Scourge twisted his lips made him look like deformed and confused. He looked at me with a raised brow, then boomed in a loud voice, "I have absolutely no idea who the hell this is."

"It's me, Roller! The truck guy from that deal?" He said in amazement. Then Roller's amazement turned into a raging scowl. "The reason why I'm _lowered to stealing cars in the first place_."

He sprang from his seat like a spider monkey and wrung Scourge's neck. "Thanks to you, I owe them over fifty thousand rings!" Roller yelled. "The other fifty they'll compensate with your dead body!"

Scourge gurgled and flailed him arms around like he was putting on a puppet show on steroids. "Shadow! Help!"

I rubbed my chin in thought, soaking in the scene of Scourge's suffocation. "Hm," I said, "something tells me that karma is biting you in the ass…"

"You prick!" Eventually Scourge yanked off Roller's hands, rubbing his bruised neck. "It's not my fault those girls died—I didn't even know they paid in advance!"

"That's 'cause you don't pay attention, fuck face! If you weren't dickin' around with some girl on the job, I wouldn't be in this hell hole!"

"You're not the only one in deep shit—I was in jail!"

"Yeah," Roller said, "your nice, protected jail where we couldn't skin you alive for all that money you lost us!"

"ENOUGH!"

Both Scourge and Roller stopped their incessant babbling to look at me. "Look," I said, "I don't know what you guys are talking about, and I don't give two shits about it either." I gestured to Scourge as I looked at Roller. "We both know that this hedgehog's a retard, and you should've known that when you decided you wanted to work with him."

"Thanks, Shadow," Scourge said. Then I turned to him as I gestured to Roller. "And it's obvious that you put this guy through some hard shit. To be quite frank, his life looks like it's ruined if he has to steal cars to pay someone fifty thousand rings."

Scourge put up his hands towards me. "Whose side are you on, anyway?"

"The point is," I said, "I only know one way of dealing with this."

Reaching over Roller, I opened the driver's door and ushered him out with the barrel of my gun. "Wha-what are you doing?" He said as he rolled out.

I stood over him amongst the blunt cigars and burger wrappers, the dirt and the grime, with Scourge standing behind me. I aimed the gun at his head.

"No, please, you can't do this!" Roller pleaded, kneeling in the garbage.

Even Scourge said, "You know, maybe this isn't such a good—"

One shot was all it took to blast a hole through Roller's head, a mane of blood framing his face on the wall.

For a moment the world froze, grasping the concept that Roller was no longer part of this world. Scourge was having a hard time comprehending as well, which I found strange because I would have thought he was accustomed to seeing bloody bodies.

"Oh shit," he said, crouching next to Roller. "He may have just been a driver, but there's gonna be some very pissed off people after you."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"He was involved with the Cut, and he still hasn't paid off his fifty grand. Now they'll be after whoever killed him to pay it off." He gave me a look of fear, like they would come after me for what I had done.

I turned to Scourge, annoyed. "When they know you're out of jail they'll be looking for _you_ to pay them, not me."

He frowned. "Oh, yeah. _Shit_."

Turning away from Roller, Scourge got back into the car. "By the way, why did you feel like you had to kill him? And in the alleyway, too?"

I looked down at my gun, then at the corpse of Roller.

"I didn't want to shoot him in the car," I said. "It'd be hell to try and clean blood out of the seats."

Again, so much for passive-aggressive.

_**Shadow, you bad, bad boy.**_

_**I kind of wrote this chapter a bit sloppily, if that's even a word—see, I'm so lazy I don't even bother to try and use real words right now. **__**Hopefully, you still enjoyed the chapter—I think this was my first chapter that was a bit more action-based and then just dialogue-based after the chase was over. It gets more into the plot of Scourge, but in the next chapter I'm going back to focusing more on Shadow and his problems rather than Scourge's illicit activities… I already got a scenario all-planned out for Shadow, bwe-hee. But that's until next time. So stick around, peeps!**_


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